As for John Haveril, he was chiefly engaged in considering the girl who had thus unexpectedly come into his life to cheer it with her brightness and her grace. I have never found any man so old or so self-made as to be insensible to the charms of sprightly maidenhood and youthful beauty. John Haveril was quite a homely person; he had not been brought up to think of beauty, and lovely dress, and charming airs and graces as belonging to himself in any way. It is this sense of being outside the circle which makes working men apparently deaf and blind to beauty adorned and cultivated. Why admire or think upon the unattainable? They might as well yearn after the possession of an ancient castle and noble name as after beauty decorated and set off. And now this girl belonged to them. He himself and his wife were only happy when this girl was with them; she came every day to see them; she drove out with them, took them to see things, taught them what to admire and what to buy, dined with them, consented graciously to accept their gifts, but refused their money. At all events, she refused to take any. Yet she liked the things that money can buy--lovely frocks, gloves, hats, ribbons, laces, gold chains, and bracelets, and necklaces. To him contempt for money, combined with love of what only money can buy, seemed incongruous. The contempt was only a phrase. Molly had been taught that Art ought to despise wealth; she had not been taught to despise the things artistic that money can buy. The rich man chuckled to think how much money can be spent upon a girl who despises it. He was pleased to make the girl happy by heaping unaccustomed treasures on her gratified shoulders. It was pleasant to be generous to a bright, happy, smiling girl, who kept him alive, and made him forget the burden of his riches. And as he thought of these things he fell into his third manner--that of the gardener--and his eyes went off into space. After dinner Molly sat down to the piano and began to sing, in a full, flexible contralto, an old ditty about love and flowers, taught her by Dick himself, who possessed a treasure-house full of such songs, new and old, and of all countries, and in all languages. There is but one theme fit for a song--the theme of youth and love, and the sweet season of roses.